


A Writer's Tongue

by Midorisakura (Calacious)



Category: Mike & Molly
Genre: Alcohol, Cheating, Community: cottoncandy_bingo, F/F, Hinting at being paid for sexual favors, Kissing, Light Angst, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1685357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Midorisakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly feels truly alive for the first time in her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Writer's Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the episodes: "Careful What You Dig For," (aired November 25th, 2013) and, "Who's Afraid of J.C. Small?" (aired May 5, 2014).
> 
> Would like feedback on this - did you like it, not like it? My very first foray into Mike&Molly and the concept of cheating.
> 
> Grammar, as always, is experimental. I like playing with words, phrasing, and punctuation.

It’s the alcohol that’s at fault, Molly decides. That, and the money. Not that she’s doing it for the money.

Not anymore, anyway. At first, maybe the money had had a little something to do with it, and, well, the fact that J.C. was/is one of her favorite authors, but not now. Now, she’s doing it because she kind of, sort of, maybe likes it.

It’s not something she’s ever really given much thought to – being with another woman. Sure, she’d maybe mused about it when she was a teenager, but she’d never acted on any of her musings. Never did anything more than give them a passing thought – here, and then gone – vanishing in a ‘poof’ of imaginary smoke.

Before J.C., she’d never even kissed a girl.

Had never acted on impulse.

Had never unlocked that secret side of her that’s helping her to become the writer that she’s always dreamed of being.

She brushes her disheveled hair into some semblance of order, spits on her hand and rubs at a pesky lipstick stain on the collar of her shirt – it’s not a shade she wears; a shade she’d never wear, because it would make her look waspish, but it looks great on J.C..

Wipes at one on her neck before she realizes that it’s not lipstick and wonders if she can convince Mike that he’s left the mark on her.

She’ll have to rinse her mouth with minty mouthwash when she gets home, because J.C. Small doesn’t taste like Mike, doesn’t taste like her, and Mike’s bound to notice the difference. Though, if she plays her cards – her man – right, he might not notice.

He hadn’t noticed that anything was amiss the first, or second, or any of the other countless times that she’s kissed, and done more, with J.C.

It’s almost too easy – this affair that she’s having. Almost insulting, really, that Mike hasn’t noticed. She almost wishes that he _would_ notice, that he’d call her out on it, and is half terrified that he will, that it will ruin their marriage. Because, though she enjoys kissing J.C., she loves being married to Mike. Loves Mike.

Loves how kissing J.C. makes her feel wild. Free. Alive.

The first time it happened, both of them were drunk. She’d kissed back, but had cut it off as soon as she’d realized what she was doing; that it wasn’t Mike, that, on some level, it was wrong (even though, at the time, it had felt so right, had awakened something inside of her that she hadn’t even known existed).

The second time, just J.C. Small is drunk, kind of, and Molly isn’t. The kisses taste like red wine, cheap booze and something else that Molly really doesn’t want to clarify. It had taken seconds, minutes, too long for her to come to her senses. For her to push J.C. away. For her to utter the word, “No.”

The third time neither of them was drunk, but that one hardly counts, because they hadn’t made it past first base, and it had been just a simple, chaste kiss on the lips.

If Molly’s being completely honest with herself, though, _that_ kiss, that almost nothing kiss, is the one that pushed them over that edge of experimentation, and into a whole new arena, because, in spite of the simplicity of it, the near innocence of it, it was their first _real_ kiss.

It was the first kiss of J.C.’s which had burned Molly’s lips, and conscience, for hours – days – later. The first kiss which had made Molly go weak in the knees. The first kiss which had caused Molly to wonder if she’d made a mistake in marrying Mike.

And, over time, Molly learns to discover that J.C.’s fingers, when they’re slicked, become experts, not only in putting pen to paper, but also in other, less saintly, endeavors. That her fingers can wind Molly up like one of those cheap wind-up dolls, and then unwind her. Make her gasp, and writhe, and utter words and phrases that have no meaning.

But, it’s the writer’s tongue that’s Molly’s undoing. Her tongue twisting and turning and touching places on Molly’s body that Mike’s fingers haven’t even dreamed of touching. Places Mike doesn’t even know exist because he’s not a woman.

“See you tomorrow,” J.C. Small’s voice is husky, shakes Molly out of her thoughts. Her fingertips are light as they dance across the back of Molly’s neck, eliciting goose bumps.

Molly shudders, runs her fingers through her hair once more, and, though she knows it’s foolish, knows that it will only make things worse; she turns her head to steal another kiss. Hopes that, tonight, Mike will be too focused on something that happened at work, or too worked up about some silly thing that Molly can pretend to listen to, but ignore in favor of playing back today’s ‘writing’ session with J.C. Smalls, in her mind.


End file.
